


Blind Date

by pallasathene



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Blind Date, Blow Jobs, First Dates, M/M, POV Alternating, Slow-ish burn, personality clash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 18:39:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19796737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pallasathene/pseuds/pallasathene
Summary: After a disastrous first date, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy hope never to meet again. However, fate has other things in store.





	Blind Date

Draco checked his watch. His date, whoever he was, was late. If there was one thing Draco couldn’t stand, it was lateness. Well, there were lots of things Draco couldn’t stand. Having to share a tube carriage with drunk football fans, for example, or when you think you’re being served champagne and it turns out it’s just prosecco; but lateness was definitely up there.

He checked his watch again. Eleven whole minutes late. This guy better be fucking worth it.

A man had entered the restaurant and was glancing around. The Maître d’ was talking to him now, and scanning his list, and directing him to – oh God, to him. His blind date was finally here.

Draco quickly checked his reflection in the screen of his phone, and stood up when his date approached.

Normally he might have stuck out his hand and said ‘I’m Draco. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance’. Instead, what came out was ‘You’re eleven minutes late.’

‘Oh,’ said his date. ‘Am I?’

Draco felt his blood boil. He’d been sitting here worrying that he’d been stood up and all this man can say is ‘Am I?’

Stiffly, Draco sat down and opened the menu.

‘What’s your name?’ asked his date.

‘Draco Malfoy. And you?’

‘Harry Potter.’

‘You’re not related to the Kensington Potters, are you?’

‘Um, no,’ said Harry.

Of course he wasn’t. That would be far too much to hope for.

Not wanting to waste any more time, Draco signalled to a passing waiter.

‘Are you gentlemen ready to order?’ asked the waiter, coming over.

‘Yes, I’ll have the chateaubriand.’ Draco looked up at Harry, and he could just feel him judging him for choosing the most expensive dish.

Harry chose the roast pumpkin. Draco felt his blood boil again. It was as though he was trying to show him up. That was the cheapest thing on the menu. The waiter went back to the kitchen.

Draco surveyed his date. He thought it was fair to say that Harry looked rather scruffy. His shirt had clearly not been ironed, and his jacket had seen better days.

‘Where did you get that jacket? A charity shop?’

‘Yes, actually,’ said Harry. ‘Do you like it?’

Draco didn’t dignify the question with a response. He supposed Harry thought he was morally superior for shopping in charity shops. Personally, Draco didn’t see anything moral about turning up to a date in someone else’s cast-offs – it hardly made him feel very special. By contrast, Draco had spent hours choosing what he would wear. His suit was Tom Ford, in a beautiful inky blue colour. Harry probably hadn’t even noticed. His beard was scruffy, his round hipster glasses had actually been repaired with Sellotape, and his second hand outfit was just the icing on the cake. Someone needed to inform him that this artfully dishevelled look wasn’t cute.

Still, Draco tried to talk to him, if only to stop his fellow diners from realising that his evening was an utter write-off. However, all the topics he chose seemed to become conversational dead ends. Then, mercifully quickly, their food arrived.

‘So,’ said Harry, taking a bite of pumpkin. ‘What do you do?’

‘I work in advertising,’ said Draco.

‘Oh, that must be interesting,’ said Harry, not very convincingly.

‘And what do you do? You do have a job, don’t you?’

‘I’m a youth worker,’ said Harry.

‘Is that some kind of voluntary thing?’

‘No, no, it’s my actual job.’

‘I see,’ said Draco, sipping his wine. ‘And what does that entail?’

‘I work with young people in under-served communities, organising activities for them, you know, days out, academic support sometimes. And just stuff like listening to their problems. Helping out where I can.’

‘Very noble,’ said Draco.

‘Er…’ said Harry.

‘What?’

‘Well, you just sounded quite sarcastic,’ said Harry.

‘Do I? I suppose you think you deserve a medal for taking a bunch of teenagers to the theatre, or whatever it is you do. I’ll remind you that it’s the taxes paid by people like me that funds these little outings.’

‘Wow,’ said Harry. ‘Ok. And you think that’s a bad thing?’

‘I didn’t say that,’ said Draco.

‘And I didn’t say that I deserved a medal,’ said Harry.

Draco bit his tongue. He really couldn’t stand him. He felt sick to his stomach, really sick. In fact, he felt-

‘Excuse me,’ Draco said, corralling a passing waiter. ‘Does this have dairy in it?’

‘Yes,’ said the waiter. ‘Is something wrong, sir?’

‘It’s nothing,’ said Draco, mortified. ‘I’m just lactose intolerant.’

What a disaster. Draco pushed his half-eaten meal away, and refused offers of a replacement dish. He felt far too queasy. As if this date wasn’t going badly enough. He couldn’t understand why his friend had set him up with this man. They clearly had nothing in common.

Draco poured himself another glass of wine. Harry made a couple more feeble attempts at conversation, but all Draco wanted to do was seethe in silence. Eventually the waiter came with the bill, and they fell upon it, relieved. When they both immediately said ‘Shall we split it?’ it was the first time they’d agreed on something all night.

When Draco sank into the seat of his taxi, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The horror was over, he told himself. He would never have to see Harry Potter again.

***

Harry looked around the restaurant, wondering who his date was. The man at the door asked his name, found him on his list, and walked with him some of the way to his table, pointing out his date.

His date stood up. He was tall and slender, with very pale blond hair that contrasted beautifully with his dark suit.

Harry was opening his mouth to say how pleased he was to meet him, when the man said ‘You’re eleven minutes late.’

‘Oh, said Harry, caught off guard. ‘Am I?’

A little awkwardly, they sat down.

He asked his date’s name. It was Draco Malfoy, which sounded intimidatingly aristocratic.

‘You’re not related to the Kensington Potters, are you?’

‘Um, no,’ said Harry, wondering who they could be. Probably some elite family.

Draco made a small noise which to Harry seemed to express disapproval.

Then, a waiter appeared. ‘Are you gentlemen ready to order?’ he asked.

Draco chose his dish, and Harry tried to make a quick decision on what he wanted. He saw that one of the dishes contained pumpkin, which he loved.

‘I’ll have the roast pumpkin one please.’

The waiter took their menus and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

Harry felt Draco’s eyes raking over him. ‘Where did you get that jacket?’ he asked. ‘A charity shop?’

‘Yes, actually,’ said Harry. He’d picked it up last week, and he loved the green colour and the way it fitted him. ‘Do you like it?’

Silence. Harry took that as a no. He could see now that Draco’s suit had to be designer. Not because of anything about the suit itself – Harry would be the first to admit that he knew very little about clothes – but because of the way Draco wore it. Harry had felt good about how he looked before, but now he felt somewhat self-conscious. He pretended to become engrossed in the wine list.

Draco asked him a few questions, about his family, where he lived, and what school he went to, all of which felt to Harry like traps of some sort. Luckily, their food soon arrived.

‘So,’ said Harry, casting around for a topic of conversation as he began to eat. ‘What do you do?’

‘I work in advertising,’ said Draco.

‘Oh, that must be interesting,’ said Harry. He knew that advertising could be very creative, and wondered if Draco had worked on any cool campaigns recently. But Draco didn’t respond with any further details.

There was a pause, and then Draco said ‘And what do you do? You do have a job, don’t you?’

Harry decided to ignore the tone of his question. ‘I’m a youth worker.’

‘Is that some kind of voluntary thing?’

’No, no, it’s my actual job,’ said Harry.

‘I see. And what does that entail?’

Harry explained.

‘Very noble,’ said Draco when he had finished, raising a sardonic eyebrow.

‘Er…’ said Harry, who was now feeling extremely uncomfortable.

‘What?’ said Draco.

‘Well, you just sounded quite sarcastic,’ said Harry.

‘Do I? I suppose you think you deserve a medal for taking a bunch of teenagers to the theatre, or whatever it is you do. I’ll remind you that it’s the taxes paid by people like me that funds these little outings.’

‘Wow,’ said Harry. ‘Ok. And you think that’s a bad thing?’

‘I didn’t say that,’ said Draco.

‘And I didn’t say that I deserved a medal,’ said Harry.

Draco didn’t say anything, but he was clearly silently fuming. Then his faced changed, and he got the attention of a passing waiter.

‘Excuse me, does this have dairy in it?’

It turned out that Draco was lactose intolerant and hadn’t realised that his chateaubriand contained milk. Harry almost felt bad for him. He couldn’t believe how badly this was going. This is why you don’t let your straight friends set you up, he thought. They only know one other queer man in the whole of London and he’s an absolute nightmare.

Harry finished his meal as quickly as he could without looking rude, while Draco glared at him over the top of his wine glass. After what felt like a thousand years the waiter came to check on them, and they asked for the bill. They split it, and Harry found a taxi.

As it was taking him home, Harry’s phone pinged.

_how’s the date going?? ;)_

Harry gave a mirthless laugh and tossed the phone onto the seat next to him.

***

Harry hadn’t exactly forgotten about the date, but three weeks had passed and it was no longer at the forefront of his mind. He had told a more humorous version of what had happened to a couple of friends, and was chatting with some very promising people on dating apps, and all in all he was willing to say there was no harm done.

It was Saturday night, and he was at a party, sipping a beer and chatting to an old friend. It was at that stage of the night when the room gets just a little too warm from all the people. Harry happened to glance towards the door, and saw with a jolt a certain smartly dressed person who had seemingly just arrived.

‘Oh shit, cover me,’ Harry said to his friend. ‘It’s that awful guy I went on a date with.’ Harry sank lower and cautiously peered at Draco. ‘Good, I don’t think he’s seen me.’

‘What are you doing, Harry?’ said Claire, walking over with a replenished bowl of snacks. ‘Why are you hiding?’

‘ _You_ ,’ said Harry, ‘You started all this, with that blind date. Why is Draco here?’

‘Because we’re friends, obviously,’ replied Claire. ‘Can’t you grow up? He’s not that bad once you get to know him.’

Harry stood up straight, but he took another furtive look in Draco’s direction. He was now holding a wine glass with long, elegant fingers and smirking as he spoke to another guest. Harry wasn’t going to let Draco’s presence ruin his evening, he decided. But he was going to stay as far away from him as possible.

At around midnight Harry felt like going out onto the balcony, but seeing Draco already out there made him stop short, and drop his hand from the door handle. Draco had his back to him, looking out at the street below, so Harry observed him for a few moments. His hair looked so bright in contrast to the dark sky. It was light enough that it looked bleached, but it wasn’t. You could see that when you got up close – no roots showing through. Unless Draco was very diligent about going to the salon, which, Harry admitted, wasn’t the most unlikely thing in the world.

***

Draco was still fuming about the date three weeks after the fact. His mortification was so deep that he hadn’t told anyone about what had happened. Claire had sent him a text when he was on his way home, with a fucking winky face no less. He hadn’t responded. She’d known him a long time, so she understood. Every time he thought about the date he flushed and his heart started pounding with rage.

Claire was having a party tonight. Potter was likely to be there, an eventuality which made Draco feel physically unwell, but also in attendance would be some very well-connected art dealers who Draco was itching to charm.

Draco arrived at the party, took off his coat, and looked around to see who was there. Lo and behold, there’s Potter, he thought, hiding behind someone like he’s so inconspicuous. Draco grabbed a glass of wine and clutched it like a shipwrecked man with a life raft.

Stop thinking about Potter, he told himself, making a beeline for one of the art dealers. You’ve got work to do.

***

The next weekend, Harry was hosting a party of his own. He hadn’t really planned it. It was just going to be a get-together of a few of his old friends from university at first, and then he decided to ask some of his work friends as well, and then people turned up with their friends and partners too. Looking around the room, he wasn’t sure he’d seen roughly thirty per cent of these people before, but whoever they were, they were good fun and had brought alcohol with them, so he wasn’t complaining.

He finished his drink and decided to go to the loo. He shut the bathroom door behind him, instantly muffling the music and voices. He unzipped his jeans and started to pee. He felt warm and contented. It was calming being in here. He looked out of the window that was set in the sloping roof, seeing the bright crescent of the moon that was hanging in the sky. He thought he could see some stars too. Was that the plough?

Then there was a banging on the door. ‘Hey!’ said a voice. ‘My patience wears very thin!’

Who talks like that? Harry thought. ‘Ok, I’m coming out now,’ he said loudly.

He zipped up his jeans, washed his hands and opened the door.

‘Jesus Christ,’ he said when he saw who was on the other side of it.

‘What are you doing here?’ asked Draco Malfoy.

‘I live here,’ said Harry, his confusion rapidly morphing into rage.

Draco looked horrified. It seemed as though he was going to say something, but then he just swept past Harry and slammed the bathroom door behind him.

Harry walked back to the main room. He’d just poured himself a new drink when Amy, a friend from university, approached him.

‘You haven’t seen my friend Draco have you, Harry?’ she asked.

‘Did you bring him? How do you know him?’

‘We went to school together. So you’ve seen him?’

‘Yeah, I’ve seen him alright,’ Harry said. ‘He’s in the bathroom.’

‘Ok, well, he’s very drunk,’ Amy said.

‘Great. That’s great to hear,’ said Harry. ‘Why are you friends with him? Does he think that just because he’s rich and handsome he can get away with acting like he does?’

‘You think he’s handsome?’ Amy asked.

‘Well, yeah? He is?’

‘Uhh… is he?’

Harry faltered. ‘Well. Just objectively speaking. Objectively, he’s a handsome man.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Oh my god, you like him!’

Harry’s eyes widened too, but in horror. ‘No I don’t!’

Harry’s flat wasn’t large, so he and Draco bumped into each other, sometimes literally, several times that night. Amy hadn’t been wrong; Draco really was necking that wine. And whisky. And beer. That was going to hurt tomorrow.

In the early hours the party wound down, and at 3am Harry said goodbye to the last stragglers. He locked the door, put all the glasses and plates in the sink, and decided it was time for bed. Then he heard an unmistakable sound from the bathroom.

He opened the door to find someone kneeling in front of the toilet, retching. Their white-blond head turned, and Harry found himself looking at the pallid face of Draco Malfoy.

‘Oh God,’ Draco slurred.

‘I thought you’d gone home,’ Harry said. ‘I’m going to kill Amy. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.’

‘Go away,’ Draco moaned. ‘Leave me to the wild beasts.’

‘Be quiet.’ Harry walked over and flushed the loo. ‘Come on, wash your hands.’

Draco rose slowly to his feet and did so.

‘I’m going to get you some clothes of mine to change into,’ Harry said.

‘Stop trying to be a good Samaritan and leave me alone,’ Draco said.

Harry ignored him, going to his chest of drawers to find some sweatpants and a clean t-shirt. Draco grudgingly took them, and Harry waited on the other side of the bathroom door while he put them on. Draco emerged, and Harry lead him to his own bed, where Draco promptly got comfortable. By the time Harry had put a glass of water on the nightstand, Draco was already asleep.

***

Harry woke feeling stiff and sore. He got up off the floor and stretched a little before heading to the bathroom. It seemed like Draco was still asleep. He got himself a bowl of cereal and was eating it when Draco appeared looking confused.

‘What happened last night?’ he asked.

‘You got hammered and I had to put you to sleep in my bed.’

Harry looked at Draco. He looked surprisingly well for someone who had been vomiting his guts out last night. Harry’s sweatpants were a bit big on him, so they hung low on Draco, leaving a small patch of skin from his stomach to his hip exposed. Harry had the strangest vision of licking it.

‘You slept on the sofa?’ Draco asked.

‘Um, well, I don’t really have a sofa.’

‘You slept on the floor? For me?’

‘Yep,’ said Harry.

Draco didn’t say anything. He hovered for a while, looking uncertain.

‘I should go,’ he said finally.

Harry watched him leave, marvelling at how ‘thank you’ didn’t seem to be in his vocabulary at all.

***

Once back in his own home, Draco went straight to his computer. He had felt so awkward at Harry’s flat that morning. Puking your guts out and having to be put to bed was not the Malfoy way. He was so embarrassed he hadn’t known what to say, but of course Harry deserved some token of appreciation for what he had done, and Draco knew just the thing: a hamper from Fortnum & Mason. You couldn’t go wrong with that.

***

The hamper arrived at Harry’s door that afternoon. Harry wasn’t expecting a delivery, especially not one that nearly made him sink to his knees when he took it from the delivery guy. This thing weighed a tonne. He dropped it on the kitchen table and opened it up. Inside there were all sorts of boxes and bottles and jars, all bearing the name of Fortnum & Mason, that posh shop in Piccadilly. He pulled out jam, wine, cheese, meats, chocolate, tea, coffee and many other things besides. There was only one person who could be responsible for this. Once all the items had been taken out there was just one thing left in the hamper: a folded piece of paper. Harry opened it, seeing that it was an invoice that the staff must have put in by mistake. Sure enough, there was Draco’s name on it. Then his eyes slid downwards. He squinted at the paper. Did he need new glasses? Surely it couldn’t say that this had costed _five hundred pounds_. But there it was in black and white.

Harry dialled a number on his phone.

‘Claire? What’s Draco’s number? I need to talk to him.’

***

Draco felt rather smug as he made his way across London to Harry’s flat. His plan had worked perfectly. Where words failed, William Fortnum and Hugh Mason stepped in to save the day.

He rapped smartly on Harry’s door, mouth already watering at the thought of Harry greeting him with a cup of Assam tea and toast with orange and champagne marmalade.

‘What the fuck is this?’ said Harry when he opened the door.

Draco faltered. This wasn’t quite the reaction he had expected.

He followed Harry into the kitchen, seeing all the delectable items in their gleaming packaging laid out on the table.

‘Five hundred pounds?’ Harry said. ‘Five hundred pounds? It’s…it’s obscene!’

Oh, I see,’ said Draco. ‘Yes, this makes perfect sense. Instead of thanking me for this token of my appreciation, you complain and berate me for it. Saint Potter can’t be seen to be enjoying anything nice. That would destroy his man of the people image.’

‘What the fuck are you talking about? You’re insufferable, you know that? Just get out of my house.’

Draco didn’t need to be told twice. Harry slammed the door in his face and Draco headed for the street. He walked briskly the way he had come, a cold wind biting at his face and neck. His heart was beating rather fast, and there was a curious lump in his throat.

When he got back to his flat he made himself a steaming mug of coffee. It was after he had taken the first sip that he groaned loudly, realisation dawning on him for the second time that day.

Firstly, he had feelings for Harry Potter; and secondly, he had royally fucked this up.

***

‘Not you again,’ said Harry as he opened the door. ‘Why can’t you just use your words if you want to say sorry or thank you or whatever it is? Don’t just throw me a bunch of cash.’

‘I know,’ said Draco. ‘That’s what I’m here to do.’ Draco took a deep breath and steeled himself. ‘Look, my father gave a lot of money to charity but he was a shitbag. He only did it to gain power and status and all the while he was hiking up rents for his tenants and investing in all manner of dodgy businesses. But I know you’re not like that. Anyone can see you’re a good guy. I was just projecting, I think. I’m afraid of turning out like him. I already look exactly like him.’ Draco became aware that he was babbling. ‘And, well, anyway, some might say that I have trust issues. And I push people away. And I’m…’ And here Draco started to feel his throat close up but he pushed through anyway. ‘I’m sorry. I really am. I don’t think you’re a self-righteous, sanctimonious, self-satisfied-’

Harry cut him off. ‘Alright, alright, I think you’ve made your point.’

‘I’m sorry about the date most of all,’ Draco said. ‘Maybe we could…try again?’

Harry looked at him like he was a lunatic. ‘Go out together again? Us?’

‘I sense that you don’t want to.’

‘No Draco, I don’t,’ Harry said wearily. ‘That’s not how this works. You can’t just stay over at my flat, flash me your stomach, act like an arsehole, apologise and expect us to fall into each other’s arms. This isn’t a rom com. You’re not some kind of prickly sea urchin with a soft centre. Or maybe you are, but that doesn’t mean I’m suddenly going to decide you’re the right guy for me.’

‘I’m a sea urchin?’ said Draco, bewildered. ‘And what about my stomach?’

Harry sighed. ‘I think you should go.’

And so, for the third time that day, Draco walked away from Harry’s door and onto the street. He walked slowly, hands plunged deep in his pockets. He was half hoping that Harry would change his mind. Perhaps a window would open above him and he would hear ‘Draco, wait!’, or maybe Harry would run after him, and Draco would turn around, and then…

No, it was hopeless. Harry was right, this wasn’t a rom com.

Draco took out his phone and dialled.

‘Claire,’ he said miserably. ‘Do you think I’m an obnoxious posh boy who people only tolerate for my intermittent wit and readiness to spend hundreds of pounds on drinks for people at parties I hardly know?’

Her silence told him all he needed to know.

***

Harry and Draco didn’t cross paths for a few months after that. Harry still thought about Draco sometimes, though, remembering the things they had said to each other and wondering if they would run into each other again, but he didn’t know why.

Harry was out with Claire when he saw Draco next. He was sitting on a bar stool across the room, chatting to another man. He looked different. He’d changed his hair and he was wearing a casual t-shirt rather than his usual suit. One of Draco’s legs kept bouncing as though he was nervous. Was he on a date? Harry looked at the person he was talking to. Something about this man stirred an instant dislike in Harry. He wasn’t sure how he knew it, but he could just tell that the guy was a tosser.

Harry looked back at Draco. He could see the angular points of his shoulders and elbows. It was funny, Harry was usually into strong, athletic men. Not that he was into Draco, of course. He was just taking a casual glance at him.

‘What are you staring at, Harry?’ said Claire, waving her hand in front of his face to get his attention. Then she turned around, following his gaze. ‘Oh! Draco!’

Claire turned back to Harry with a rather smug look on her face. ‘Taking a good look, were you?’ she asked.

‘No,’ said Harry firmly. ‘I was checking out the guy he’s talking to.’

‘Oh,’ said Claire, sounding disappointed. ‘Well, you’ll have no luck there.’

‘Why, are they dating?’ Harry asked, trying to sound only casually interested.

‘No,’ said Claire. ‘Mark is married.’

Harry took a drink from his beer and then decided to broach the question that had been on his mind for some time.

‘Claire, why did you set me and Draco up?’

‘Well, they say opposites attract. But it’s not like you have nothing in common; you’re both orphans, for one.’

‘He’s an orphan?’

‘Yes. Did you two never talk about it?’

‘No, I suppose it never came up.’

Harry looked over at Draco again. He looked so elegant next to the oaf of a man opposite him. He couldn’t help but be bothered by the way Draco’s leg was still bouncing. Was Mark making him nervous? What was he saying that was stressing Draco out so much?

Claire went over to the bar to say hello to Draco, and they chatted for a moment. Then Mark stood up and seemed to be saying his goodbyes. He left and Claire pointed Harry out to Draco, and they exchanged nods. Claire bought a new drink for each of them and she and Draco came over to the table. Harry couldn’t help but marvel at her apparent immunity to awkward situations.

Harry took his drink gratefully. It seemed to be something with whisky in it, and he hoped it was strong.

‘I was just telling Harry why I set you two up,’ said Claire.

Harry almost choked on his drink.

‘Opposites attract?’ asked Draco. ‘Unfortunately Harry and I seem to be stubborn little magnets.’

‘Yep, sorry about that, Claire,’ said Harry.

Claire sighed. ‘Well, I’m just going to pop to the loo.’ She stood up and headed for the ladies’.

Harry took another sip of his drink, wondering who would speak first.

‘So how have you been?’ Harry said finally.

‘Not bad, not bad at all,’ replied Draco. ‘I trust you are also well?’

‘Yeah,’ said Harry vaguely. There was something other than their health statues on his mind, although it wasn’t exactly small talk material. He decided to take the plunge anyway. ‘Claire just told me something – I hadn’t realised – I’m also an orphan.’

‘You hadn’t realised you were an orphan?’

‘No, I hadn’t realised _you_ were an orphan.’

Draco looked Harry in the eye for the first time that night. ‘Yes,’ he said after a small pause. ‘My father died shortly after getting out of prison.’

‘He was in prison?’ Harry asked. ‘What for?’

‘Oh, everything. Fraud, tax evasion, getting his goons to beat people up.’

‘And your mum?’

‘Cancer,’ said Draco. ‘That was when I was twenty. By the time they found it, it was too late.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Harry didn’t know what to say. ‘I’m really sorry, Draco.’

Draco gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod. ‘What about your parents?’ he asked.

‘They died when I was a year old, so I don’t remember them. I was brought up by my aunt and uncle with their own son.’ He sighed. ‘But I didn’t fit in with their vision of perfect family life. I was different and they treated me like a burden. That’s why I do what I do now. A lot of the kids I work with are going through similar things.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Draco. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘More drinks, boys?’ asked Claire, appearing out of nowhere.

So they all had another drink, and chatted freely. Draco was actually pretty funny. It was strange, he seemed different to how he was when they had first met. Less judgemental. Less up himself. Harry wondered what had caused this change.

After a while, Harry needed the toilet. He chose a stall and started to pee. He heard the door open, and someone start to pee in the urinal. Harry pulled up his trousers and came out of the stall to wash his hands.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ he said, seeing that Draco was at the urinal.

He washed his hands. Draco finished and brushed past him on his way to the sink.

It was just the smallest accidental touch, but Harry felt something stirring. _Well fuck_ , he thought. He looked at Draco, looked at his pale gold hair and his straight nose and his angular bones. Draco felt his gaze on him and turned to look at Harry, regarding him with his grey eyes.

Harry’s heart did have a tendency to palpitate when he was intoxicated, but he couldn’t be sure if that was the reason why his heart skipped a beat at that exact moment.

Harry felt the need to say something, anything, to somehow put a pin in this moment. It would be so easy for both of them to just go back to the table and sit down with Claire. But he didn’t want that. He didn’t care about whatever had gone wrong between them anymore. He just wanted to reach out and touch Draco, to kiss his neck, to run his hand up under his t-shirt.

‘You seem different,’ he said.

‘Different how?’ Draco asked.

Harry thought about how to say it in a way that didn’t sound insulting. He laughed a little.

‘What?’ asked Draco, a slight smile playing on his lips.

‘You seem nicer,’ Harry said, deciding to be honest.

‘Nicer? I suppose I shouldn’t sniff at that,’ said Draco in a tone which suggested he was desperate to sniff at it but was too committed to his recently developed niceness to do so.

‘And more attractive,’ said Harry.

‘Oh,’ said Draco.

Harry’s heart was pounding in his ear by this point, and again he felt the stirring. Every second that ticked by was excruciating.

Draco moved towards him, slowly, so slowly. They were practically pressed up against each other. Draco tilted his head and their lips met for the first time. They drew apart, then kissed again, deeper this time. Harry’s hand found Draco’s waist and he pulled him even closer. He felt something – was Draco getting hard like he was? He pressed his hips up against Draco’s.

Draco pulled away. ‘I don’t want to…’ he started to say.

‘Oh, fuck, I’m sorry,’ said Harry.

‘No, I mean, I don’t want to hook up with you in a lavatory,’ said Draco.

Harry, for his part, had momentarily lost all concept of time and space, but could see Draco’s point now that he mentioned it.

‘How about we go back to mine?’

‘Ok,’ said Draco.

They left the toilets and made for the bar’s exit. Once out on the street, they got into a cab and gave the driver Harry’s address. In their rush, both of them completely forgot about Claire.

Once back at Harry’s flat, they started kissing and made their way to the bedroom. They stumbled in and collapsed on the bed, laughing. Harry kissed Draco, making his way down his neck to his collarbone. His head was spinning. He couldn’t believe how this night had turned out. Damn, his head really was spinning. As hot as Draco looked, a glass of water and eight hours sleep also sounded pretty good right now.

‘Hey, Draco… As much as I want to do this, I’m more drunk than I realised.’

Draco sat up and ran a hand through his hair. ‘Yeah, you’re right.’

Harry stood up. ‘I’m just going to go to the loo, back in a moment.’

When Harry got back, Draco was already fast asleep. Carefully so as not to wake him, Harry slid into bed beside him.

***

Draco woke the next morning with the sun in his eyes and Harry’s arm around him. He smiled, then he rubbed his eyes, and behind him he felt Harry stir.

‘Morning,’ said Harry.

Draco rolled over and looked into Harry’s bright green eyes. ‘Sleep well?’ he asked.

‘Yeah,’ said Harry.

‘Better than when you were on the floor?’

‘I wasn’t going to mention that, but yes.’ Harry chuckled.

Harry propped himself up on his elbow and ran a hand through his hair, making it even more messy than it was before.

‘I love your hair,’ he said.

‘Really?’ said Harry. ‘I never really have. It won’t lie flat.’

‘I like it. It looks good how it is.’

‘I like your stomach,’ said Harry.

‘What is it about my stomach? You mentioned it before.’

‘I don’t know. It’s just hot.’

‘Want to see it?’ asked Draco in his most seductive voice.

With a flourish he threw back the duvet, and then began pulling his shirt up inch by inch, doing his best to smoulder at Harry.

Harry laughed and kissed Draco on the mouth. Just like last night there was that spark of electricity and that hunger for more. Harry put his hand on Draco’s waist, and then Draco rolled on top of Harry and kissed him deeply. Draco started to grind on Harry, smiling as he felt both of them grow harder.

His heart started beating faster, and he pulled away from the kiss. His mouth suddenly felt dry.

‘You ok?’ asked Harry. ‘What’s wrong?’

Draco felt strange and jittery. ‘Oh, it’s just my old friend anxiety,’ he said.

Harry put a hand on Draco’s back and started rubbing it comfortingly. ‘We can stop, don’t worry about it.’

‘I want you. It’s just determined to ruin every good moment of my life.’

‘Deep breaths,’ said Harry. ‘In through your nose, out through your mouth.’

Draco did that for a few minutes. When he felt better, he lay down next to Harry and they kissed again. His hand found Harry’s thigh. God, Harry had nice legs. He must play some kind of sport. He ran his hand slowly up his thigh until he reached Harry’s cock, hard underneath his underwear.

Harry moaned softly against Draco’s mouth. God, Draco wanted him so badly. He started stroking Harry’s cock through the soft cotton. Harry reached down and pulled off his underwear. Draco decided to pull off his own t-shirt and underpants too. As soon as his stomach was exposed, Harry pounced on it with a kiss, making Draco laugh.

‘So…what do you want to do?’ Draco asked.

‘What are you into?’ asked Harry.

‘I’m versatile.’

‘How about I blow you?’

Draco felt his cock swell at those words. He lay down and Harry kissed his body, going from his stomach to his thighs, teasing the sensitive area between the top of his thigh and the base of his cock.

Draco lay back against the pillows and let Harry start to suck him. He began by licking the head, then took his cock slowly into his mouth. Fuck, Harry looked so hot, sucking Draco’s cock like it was all he’d ever wanted to do. Draco felt like he could cum at any moment, but he didn’t want this to end.

Harry’s mouth was so warm and wet, and the things he was doing with his tongue were unlike anything Draco had ever experienced. And fuck, Harry was taking him deeper now, into the tight place at the top of his throat.

‘Fuck, Harry,’ Draco moaned. ‘I don’t think I can hold off any longer.’

Harry just sucked him harder, and Draco felt his hands caressing him lightly on his thighs and his balls. Draco’s eyes closed and he felt his orgasm get pulled from deep inside him, building until the feeling was almost unbearable, and then he was cumming, hard, in Harry’s mouth.

Afterwards, Harry made him breakfast. They ate toast with the orange and champagne marmalade Draco had bought him.

‘So we’re not telling Claire, right?’ Harry said in between bites.

‘I don’t want to be your dirty little secret, Harry. Although saying it like that does make it sound kind of hot, but anyway.’

‘Oh shit no, I didn’t mean it like that,’ Harry said. ‘I just meant because Claire will be insufferable if she finds out that her blind date actually worked out. But it’s fine, we’ll tell her. It doesn’t matter.’

‘She’s going to realise something’s up seeing as we disappeared together,’ said Draco.

Harry laughed. ‘True. I’d forgotten that. Last night was a bit of a blur.’

‘What made you come on to me?’ Draco asked.

‘A few things I suppose. Realising we had more things in common than I thought. You looking especially hot,’ Harry said. ‘Mark,’ he added with unexpected venom.

‘Mark?’ Draco asked, bemused. ‘What’s wrong with him?’

‘Oh, nothing, I’m sure he’s great. But I saw you sitting with him and I thought you might be on a date. Got a bit jealous I suppose.’

‘He’s straight, and married.’

‘So Claire reassured me,’ said Harry. ‘But if I’m honest, I kind of fancied you from the beginning. You looked amazing in that blue suit.’

‘Oh really?’ said Draco smirking. ‘I can’t say the same about you. I was too busy being angry at you for being late.’

‘Don’t worry, I soon started hating your guts,’ Harry said. ‘More toast?’

‘Yes please. And I wouldn’t mind a cup of that Assam tea, too.’

‘Coming up.’

The End

And now here's a little mockup I made, as the Guardian's Blind Date column was what originally inspired this. Might add a pic in there later, but I'm picky when it comes to faceclaims.

**Author's Note:**

> \- Never have I written something in which characters go to the loo so much.  
> \- I had SUCH a struggle with Draco's 'redemption arc' and I'm not sure I pulled it off...but this was fun and I love these dorks.


End file.
